


Cotton Red

by PlasticEyes



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff galore, Homeless AU, LGTB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5822083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlasticEyes/pseuds/PlasticEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m gay.”</p><p>Silence –trembling with a jaw fixed upwards and fists clenched in a useless form of willpower. Shaking from the tip of existence to the edge of death, thoughts nearly reverberating the walls of the darkening room. Struggling to be calm through the self-reassurance of they love me they love me they love me they love me…<br/>...</p><p>Homeless AU. Shameless fluff between a shattered Beca, and reviving Chloe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost'n Found

**Author's Note:**

> Supposed to be a one shot but dayUM this is really long. Split into two/three parts. Once there all finished I'll probably group them into one. Enjoy :)
> 
> plasticface.tumblr.com/
> 
> ^3^

It’s kind of weird.

Impractical.

Indistinguishable.

Interchangeable.

Undeniable.

To think that for one moment I was there, and now I’m here. Suffering in this silent agony of a mixture between solitude and isolation, the loneliness of an irrevocably mangled soul. To think, it was only the utterance of two words spoken. Spoken, rejected –discarded. An object loved and cared, caressed to the bone since the day of its creation. Made sure to be happy and satisfied till the end of time, a guarantee that was promised through words and affection.

And then…

_“I’m gay.”_

There was that pregnant pause of a tension thick enough to drown the strongest divers of the sea, seeping and muddling through the entire house itself. Silence –trembling with a jaw fixed upwards and fists clenched in a useless form of willpower. Shaking from the tip of existence to the edge of death, thoughts nearly reverberating the walls of the darkening room. Struggling to be calm through the self-reassurance of they love me they _love me they love me they love me…_

_“Pack your bags, and get outta my house.”_

_“Phil…I don’t-”_

_“You shut your mouth Mary!”_

It just came crashing, pulling and tugging down at my knees and arms of the one question of _why?_ The worst of fears to come true, apprehension mingling into the distaste of iron blood leaking through cracked lips. Distressed with a heart that refused to beat at the properly distinguished time.

_“Get out! Get out get out get OUT!”_

On the literal terms of being pushed and shoved as if I was back in the wild first grade lines of elementary school. A bag was pitifully shoved into my hands before the door was slammed shut, cutting off any means of retorts I could have possibly given, pleads at the least. And it all happened so fast, too fast for my surprised, let alone mortified thoughts to comprehend.

But it was over. And I wasn’t wanted, nor needed. Surely I could’ve tried, bang and yell at the barrier that separated their two-faced expressions. Tell them –hell, scream to them that I was “just joking!”That everything was a just a joke, and that this whole thing was a social experiment for psychology. Pretty believable.

I didn’t even bother.

Not a bang or imploring yell of reasoning. I just turned –and walked. For hours and hours. Thinking and mumbling of how did this happen? Why and who and what and is it truly my fault? Should I feel sorrow or regret? Remorse or –freedom? Betrayed or alive?

Revulsion and convulsion.

Coming onto the literal terms now well into the abandoned-like highway of Texas after a full day had gone by –just stopping and allowing the realization of _this isn’t some fucked up dream_ to be slapped onto my neck, bringing a bubble of spine-raking sobs to finally be shattered and cried out across the evening sky. Infidelity. Living a counterfeit life filled with the fake words of “ _We’ll love you till the end of time Becs._ ” Fake fake fake fake _fake_.

Love.

Trust.

Hope.

Conviction.

All that archetypal stuff.

As it stood –was to never again be given, nor accepted. To be refrained and guided away through means of glares and snarls, sass and attitude. I am alone, and wish to stay alone everlastingly. Enduringly. Eternally. Put straight:

Forever.

…

And ever.

…

And ever.

…

And _fucking_ ever.

…

…

…

And then _she_ butt into my life.

Plainly spoken at the sight of her nude form entering my shower stall.

Not even the first week of college had passed by.

 _College?_ is what you’re thinking, am I correct?

Kicked out and homeless at sixteen, m-hm. Sixteen, yes, with nothing but a bag filled with a single bottle of water, some chips, and my wallet.

So how did I do it? Good question. And not very hard to explain believe it or not.

Seventeen and hitch-hiking with the hippies to Louisiana, smoking with the bums, and attending odd jobs at the local gas station. Eighteen –jacking my first car in Mississippi, breaking-and-entering on accounts to the gnawing pain at my stomach, and relaxing in the local libraries of Alabama. Nineteen and realizing that I’m not stupid. Education is key no doubt –but self-motivation happens to remain lower than my care for others.

Twenty–I witness the death of a shriveled old woman who had been sharing the alleyway with me. Smoking is quickly put to an end and a bank account is created, obtaining three bar jobs in the suburbs of Georgia.

Twenty-one. Two encounters of close-calls concerning molestation.

Twenty-two, through the funds, tips, and bonuses of the two years before, I’m accepted into Barden University.

Education. Is. The key to survival. Granted, suicide has come to mind. A lot. Like, to an amount that would concern the average human being. But every time I came close to committing the sin, I just –couldn’t. And no, it wasn’t the cheesy, typical feeling that god had touched my soul, encouraging me on through the hardships of life. It was a feeling of an even larger sense, overtaking my frustration and anguish. Failure, giving into _them_.  The two damn people who raised me, and left me to die. I’ll show them. By _surviving_. The bastards left me to fend off for myself, probably expecting me to meet the fate of the same woman who had passed away just adjacent to myself.

Well. Fuck them.

...

“You _can_ sing!”

“Dude!”

So there. First day of college and the start to the worst relationship ever to come into existence. Or at least from my perspective it was. Luck on my part to pick the university with the craziest redhead ever to live.

And this girl.

This chick.

This five year old stuck in the body of a twenty-three year old.

Chloe _fucking_ Beale. The most annoying, infuriating, exasperating, and absolutely drop-dead _gorgeous_ woman I’ve ever come to meet. Utterly optimistic to the point where it proved to be just overbearing. One of those people impossible to keep still, let alone quiet for a maximum of five minutes. She was too bright, too scintillating in personality and characteristics. Whimsical in her own mischievous way. An illuminating piece of the sun that had been forcefully branded onto my brain.

It was just impossible to get my mind off that girl.

How she did it still remains a mystery to this day. Because all of a sudden I found myself auditioning for some stupid acapella group, the Bella Barden or something. And next thing you know I’m sneering a (perhaps) genuine smile, doing my best to disguise a chuckle with a cough. Singing to beats and discovering this eccentric talent I have towards the industry of music. And she’s there right next to me, smiling with that peculiar aqua hued gaze. Beside her is the stick-up-her-ass Aubrey, sex driven Stacie, hella creepy Lilly, Fat Amy who’s …well fat, totally a lesbian Cynthia, Kori, Mary, Denise, Ashley…or Jessica –Ashley and Jessica.

For a bit I’m –contented. Deniably happy, not depressed. Cautious and wary, careful not to get too attached.

And right I was to do so, after getting kicked out at an attempt to “spark” things up my own way, thinking that maybe I really did have a talent for this kind of stuff. A knowing knack. Music –maybe a possibility for my future?

“I told you she wasn’t a Bella.”

“Aubrey, don’t…”

“No. That’s okay.” I smiled at her, the most indisputable I could possibly summon. “You don’t have to pretend you’re allowed to have a say in the group, right?”

Music was out, and I was subjected back to the little comfort of my dorm. Something I had deplorably decided to invest my small account of money on, settling on working hard for a scholarship to help boost tuition for the following year’s payment. Bad idea as it supposed since, well, school’s boring. Like, hella boring. Even my previous habit to casual visits at random libraries were far more entertaining than droning lectures.  And joining the Bella’s had seemed to be the liveliest thing I had ever associated myself with in a long, _long_ time.

Nonetheless, I kept myself busy, installing a self-driven study hall and continuing one out of the three jobs at the bars.  The one, of course, closest to Barden. Ten minutes away by cab, thirty-five by feet. Also not a good idea, as I was forced to greet in an awkwardly polite way to the familiar faces of students I was _really_ not in the mood to see, let alone talk to.

“Beca!”

Of course this was bound to happen at some point. After all, it was hard not to hear about the redheads drinking addiction.

“Holy –fucking…Chloe! What the hell?” I had to struggle keep my breathing under control as she gracefully slid off my back from her surprise hug/tackle that left me feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” she beamed, sitting at the unoccupied, two -seated table to our left and motioning for me to sit as well. “Honestly, I didn’t know you worked at all.”

“Well,” I offered her a typical not-in-the-mood grin. “Surprise surprise. Now if you’ll excuse me…” whipping out a wash cloth from the back of my only pair of black slacks (which, in my current situation, had cost nearly a fortune) and sliding it across her table before snapping it back into my back pocket. “…I have work to do Beale. What can I get for you?”

Only business, strictly work. I really didn’t have any spare time for foolish hormones or sentiments.

“When do you get off?” _Ignores me. Why am I not surprised?_

“Late,” I bluntly replied, clutching my notepad and pen expectedly.

“Then I’ll wait!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Seriously Clo-”

“I’m not hearing it!” she quickly cut over, a pair of ear buds magically produced from the tips of her fingers and stuffed into her ears.  

“Chloe. Chloe I –for re-” She made no signs of hearing me. Only proceeding to an incessant bobbing head motion. Idiot. Fine, it’s no doubt she’ll get bored sooner or later. After all, my shift didn’t end until late into the wee hours of the night, three AM to be exact. As if now, the time read eight-thirty five PM.

Hey, the practical needs of life calls. Night shift pays better.

“Fine,” I raised my hands in surrender and turned away. “Fine fine fine.”

So I kept at my station, occasionally switching shifts between cleaning, organizing, and serving. A tequila here and there, couple of dishes needing to be collected and washed. Conversation was limited between customers, rarely manager and co-workers. That’s the good thing about this particular bar. The night shift was generally less crowded than the other bars I had worked at.

“Hey,” an unusual exchange was initiated at around eleven ten PM between me and Jesse, a fellow stationed bartender. He’s nice, but that’s just about it.

“What’s up?”

“You notice that girl over there?” he tipped his chin in her direction. “She’s been jamming out to her music for a couple hours now and hasn’t bought a single thing. Think we should kick her out or something?”

“Ehhh…” _Why not? Make her and my life a lot easier._ “Be my guest,” I smirked, continuing to wipe carefully at the glass shot-cup.

He raised an eyebrow and frowned. “You wouldn’t happen to _know_ her would you?”

“Nope,” I replied with not a second’s hesitation, staring intently at the sparkling cup in my hands. “Not even at the slightest. Really, her face isn’t ringing any bells. At all.”

“You didn’t even look at her.”

“Still ain’t recognizing anything,” I rambled on, taking the cloth and mindlessly wiping at the edges. “Now go do your job.”

There was only a grumble before his presence finally disappeared. Looking up, I watched with an amused expression as he strode up to her. Her headphones were plucked out delicately as she listened to his polite explanation, doing the naturally-born supposedly “cute” hand gestures that usually had women falling like bricks atop of him. There was a nod of her head, and a split-second flick of her eyes towards my location, successfully notifying me that she was well aware of my observation of this discussion. Then her focus was back on Jesse, a radiating smile as her order was written onto his notepad.

“Two small shots of beer,” back to me while he prepared the drinks. “One for herself…and one for you.”

“Ugh,” this time I did roll my eyes. “I _don’t_ want it. You take it.”

“It was ordered for you,” he turned suddenly, shoving the cup into my hands. “You drink it.” Then he was gone, around the counter and heading towards the endlessly beaming woman.

So.

Chloe. _Fucking_. Beale. Refusing to take a hint through all the glares carefully packaged and sent her way as I downed the beer in a single gulp. Chloe. _Fucking_. Beale. Still sitting there with her headphones in, staring me down and sipping quietly at her drink as the tip of her exclusive boot tapped at the wooden flooring. 

Eleven PM turned into one AM, and one AM soon ticked by into two AM. Next thing you know, its two fifty-five AM and Jesse’s already long gone, his shift finishing an hour before mine.  And this chick. This stubborn, beautiful chick. Still managing to obtain the very definition of perfection with her legs stretched carelessly underneath the table and figure leaning ever so slightly back. Eyes closed, lips parted to partake a breath every second or so. For a moment, I was truly tempted to just leave her like that. It’ll honestly save me quite the amount of unnecessary chatter with this woman.

But –c’mon. I’m not _that_ mean.

“Alright,” I plopped down into the chair across from her, letting out a heavy sigh as I unclipped my name tag and nonchalantly began unbuttoning my black button down to reveal the black tank top underneath. “What is it you want Beale?”

Her eyes were peeked open, a large grin curving her lips upwards as she let out a large yawn and began to absentmindedly stretch her joints. “Yeesh Mitchell,” she finally spoke through a voice heavily layered with bleariness. “You put up quite the hard bargain.”

“M-hm, ya yeah.” I began picking at my nail, anything to distract myself from her fucking gorgeous façade that I could just feel running with curiosity. “So what is it you wanted?”

“Alright!” _There’s the excitement._ “This is some pretty important news that I was _gonna_ just text you at first since you’ve been ghosting off campus for the past two weeks, but luckily I found you here! Because now, I can tell it to you face to face!”

“Hooray,” was my not-really-excited response as I continued picking at my nails. “Do tell.”

“Okay. Well first, look at me.”

“Seriously Beale, were not in some fucking movi-”

“C’mon Becs,” she interrupted, and I immediately stiffened in my movements. “Just oblige for once will you?”

The nickname is what threw me off, it being the most commonly used label by my poor excuse for a mother. So when I looked up, I didn’t see Chloe. I saw my mother and her smile, felt her teasing bear hugs and reassuring fingers that slid through my hair on our braid nights. The last gaze of pure shame and pity as the obstruction was gashed across and I found myself suddenly being hit with a longing pain that hadn’t been resurfaced since my lower teen years; returning with enough force to knock the breath momentarily out of my chest and send a rippling slash across the barriers of my well constructed walls.

I wanted a hug. A kiss to the cheek. An _“Everything’s going to be alright honey”._ I wanted to be cared for. Concerned for. Worried for.

To put it simply, I wanted my mom.

Pathetic in a sense. No doubt it was probably my sleep  and stress ridden form, not to mention that it also just happened to be “ _that time of the month”,_ these all being the probable reason to this sudden sense of nostalgia. But _fuck_ , of all the times for this to happen –it just had to be with Chloe Beale. The most gallingly concerned-over-everything redhead in the universe.

“Beca?” _And shit. There it is._ “Are you alright?”

“Ya ya,” I waved her off, quickly ducking my head down and rubbing away the gathering liquid near the edge to my eyes. “I’m just –on my period and…couldn’t stop thinking about the –um…endangered Yangtze River Dolphins…(?)”

“Ohhh.” Of course only Chloe would buy such a poor explanation for an excuse. “I totally understand. Those dolphins are pretty adorable. You wanna hug?”

“No no!” I may have sauntered a little too fast. “It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine! I’m just –…uhm…just tell me what you wanted to say and whatever.” Because there’s no way she’ll let me leave if it doesn’t come out.

“Oh, um, you sure Becs? You don’t really look too go-”

“Don’t call me that.” _For god’s sake, get a hold of yourself Beca!_ I gave my eyes a final swipe and took in a calming breath, clearing any forms of wavering in my voice. I looked back up, all signs of emotion erased and hidden behind an expressionless mask. “Don’t call me Becs. I have a name and would appreciate it if you’d use it correctly.”

“Of course –Beca. Sorry.” I nodded to her apology, urging her to hurry up and continue with a flick of my hand. “Soo, I was going to say that –we made it. Or at least, thanks to you, we…we got in!”

“Made what?” _The_ _fuck is she talking about holyfuck I just want to hurry up and sleep this angst off already…_

“The Barden Bellas Beca! …Wow, that was a handful to say.” Her usual giddy attitude was noticeably returning, having recovered from my previous harsher tone of voice already. “Were back! We’re going to nationals! And…” she leaned unexpectedly forward, coming way too close for comfort and raising a hand up. “…it’s all. Thanks. To you.” With the last word spoken, her finger came into contact with my nose, emitting a small “boop” after touching it and proceeding to giggle as she sat back down.

“Um. Okay.” As you can see, I was still very uncomfortable to the fact that my nose had just been “booped” by someone. Very _very_ uncomfortable. “Cool. Hope you guys win.”

“Oh but you have to come with us Beca! We got the score sheets back and without your _awesome_ Bulletproof addition, there would have been no way we would’ve gotten the spot!”

“Sorry Chloe,” I began stretching my knees and popping my shoulder blades before standing up. “But I got kicked out, remember?” I began walking away, offering a small wave from the back without even turning to look at her. “You guys can handle it. G’night.”

“I –” There was a sputter, and then of course she was walking next to me as I exited the bar’s doors. “I’ll walk with you,” she declared, not really giving me a choice as her arm was linked defiantly with mine. Touching me, our hips already swishing side by side as I continued to walk on. The warmth of another person –unfamiliar and foreign to my usual temperate temperature of the night. It didn’t…feel right.

“Get off me,” I tried, shrugging at her linked limb.

“Not a chance,” and her appendage was tightened.

 _Obviously_ I glared at her, and _obviously_ she only grinned back. Smiling that ray of sunshine that never failed to bring the fluttering wings of anxiety, rising and blossoming at the deep pits of my stomach and released through the form of an exasperated sigh. We continued to walk in silence, my unbuttoned shirt exposing skin at my torso and allowing it to be brushed against the scraggly material of her no doubt expensively bought coat. It was then when I realized that –jesus, it’s hella _freezing_.

“You cold?” she asked, supposedly reading the very thoughts on my mind.

“Nope,” I lied simply, countess nights in the cold allowing me to easily suppressing the shivers racing up my spine.

“You sure? Because I’m freezing!” With this said, she hunched further into her coat and –to my aversion –me as well.

“Yeah well,” I tried shaking her off again, but to no avail unfortunately. “Us northerners are pretty use to this kind of weather, y’know?” _Nailed it._

“Oh really? Where’d you live up there Miss Yeti?” _Shit._

“Ehhh, y’know…” _Shit shit._ “Boston.”

“Cool! Where in Boston?”

“Ra-dle,” I blurted out.

“Radle?”

“Yeah, the city of…Radle. Little area, not really well-known.” _Improvising. Make it believable._ “My parents have an apartment right on the edge of the harbor.”

“That sounds nice.” I could faintly see the outlines of the University now. Just need to stall _a_ _little more…_

“It is nice. Our family time especially when we’d climb up to the apartment’s roof area and watch the sun set. So much orange and red and yellow, mashed with the colors of the ocean’s translucent waves and all. Picture perfect, right?”

“Oh wow…” I glanced over at her, taking in the way her eyes seemed to be mapping out the scenario described. “That sounds beautiful. You must really miss them huh?”

“M-hm…” Nah, not really.

“Well, Arizona born and raised,” she grinned. “Sun burns, canyons, and running into cactus’s galore.”

“Running into cactus?”

“Yeah,” she chortled. “My older brother can be pretty competitive when he feels like it.”

“Huh.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Nope.” _Two more minutes until we’ll reach the dorm faction._ “Well, yes I guess if you count my cousin Natalie who’s pretty much been there since I was out of the womb.”

“Out of the womb huh?”

“Yeah…what?”

“Nothing,” but I felt her figure shaking, a contorted snort caught as I peered over at her.

“Hey! What did I say?” but I was suddenly smiling with her, proper to saying that her laugh was indeed contagious. “What did I do?”

“Your choice of words -,” another snort cut her off. “You choice of words are priceless Beca!”

“Yeah well, it _is_ three in the morning…”

“True true,” and now she was taking in deep breathes, slow to calm herself down. “Very true Beca, very true.”

We drifted into a second lapse of silence, this one being less awkward then the first. Shortly, the steps were concluded, and I finally arrived at my designated area. She unlinked her arm, and to my _damn luck of course_ a chilling wind happened to sweep by, immediately brining a teeth chattering chill to my entire body.

“Looks like the abominable snowman isn’t as tough as she thought.” I looked up and threw her a scowl, wrapping my hands around my arms and rubbing them together. Friction, equals warmth. Common knowledge of survival.

“Shut up.”

“Oh c’mere.” She swiftly took a step forward, and I of course took a step backwards. “Calm down Mitchell,” her hands went around her neck, unwrapping the cotton knitted scarf and looping it over my bare nape.  Already as the object came into contact with the back of my neck I could feel the previous warmth of her wavering off.

“Beale, what are you-”

With an unexpected tug of the two ends of the scarf, I was cut off from speech as she yanked me towards her, forcing herself into my personal bubble.

“Just looking out for you Becs,” was the whispered breath of an answer I got, ended by a soft peck of lips atop my forehead. Budding and emerging a new feeling to the definition of _flushing red_ since I could literally feel the burning of my face, tingling a pure sense of utter bafflement as her hands brushed away at my bangs and a single soft finger came to tilt my chin upwards, forcing me to stare into that thoroughly perplexing gaze. _Becs_ she had called me. Did I not tell her to refrain from calling me that god forsaken pet name? Didn’t I tell her, constantly and _constantly_ to just go? All those times in the hallways where she did manage to catch me: _“Leave me the fuck alone.”_  So then why in god’s name is she watching me with such an intensifying look of concern and worry. As if she was the one agonizing over this excruciating pain of _fuck I really miss this feeling_ –sensational, incomprehensible, contemplative, unfathomable.

So I said the only thing that could come to mind.

“Uhhhm…”

She just hummed, smiling that sweet-knowing smile, circling her thumb on the meeting juncture of my ear and neck before stepping back while taking the sugary wafting lavender aroma with her. “I’ll see you at tomorrow’s practice Beca. Have a good night!” Then she was gone, warmth and all, turning and leaving a slap of icy wind to the face.

“Uh, ‘night?”

One heartbeat passed, then a second, and a third. Slowly, dream-like, I rotated around, automated mode taking over as I headed back to my room. Thoughts ranging from _did I just get seduced_ to sleep sleep sleep _sleep sleep_.

I collapsed onto my bed, hands instinctively reaching for the red scarf still wrapped around my neck.

_“Just looking out for you Becs.”_

Becs.

Becs.

_Becs._

_“Hey Becs!” It was mom, calling to me as I entered the front door. First day of high school, awful and revolting to an extraordinary level. “How’d your first day go kiddo?”_

_“Oh my gosh mom!” I ran into the kitchen area where a pan of lasagna could be seen cooking from the oven. By far my favorite dish. “Mom mom mom mom!”_

_“Yes yes yes yes Beca?” she answered in her teasing voice._

_“High school sucks!” I groaned, accepting her outstretched arms and thunking my head onto her chest. “Sucks sucks sucks.”_

_“It’s only the first day kid,” she chuckled. “Don’t think too hard on it.”_

_“Ugh. Fine.”_

_“Love you Becs.”_

_“Love you too mom.”_

Her voice, echoing and fusing as I slept. Distinct hiccups of a sob, simmering and crackling into her pitch as the words where repeated over and over. Still being perceived as I finally drifted off into a restless dream filled with the dank noises of an alleyway, malevolent dark eyes of a man following and twisting around me as I ran towards the comfort of a house that would repeatedly keep refusing on all levels of all reasoning to just fucking _let me in!_

_“Yo Beco!” Dad, waving to me as he jogged over, a tool box grasped in one hand and hammer in the other. “Heard you were trying to build yourself a car for the science fair!”_

_I looked down at the mixed mess of wood and nails, peering back up to his shrewd smirk. “Please?” I asked, offering a crooked smile._

_“Of course Beca,” he laughed, bending down to ruffle my hair. “Anything for you kiddo.”_

_“Yeah!” I hooted, throwing a fist up in an already foreseen victory. “We’re gonna win this!”_

_“Oh yeah!” he joined in. “Let’s do this!”_

_It was told that our cheers could be heard from across the neighborhood. Or more importantly, even after the completion in which we evidently ended up losing in the end._

_“The important thing is that we tried our best, right Beca?”_

_“Yeah!” I beamed, struggling with my feet to keep up with his sprints. Behind us, the sounds of a very angry mother’s curse words were beginning to fade away._

_“Good good, now let’s go get some ice-cream and this time actually eat it instead of pelting it at another winner of a science fair. Cool?”_

_“Cool!” I grinned._

But I just couldn’t stop, awakening with cold sweat slinking down my temples as I grasped at the downy scarf, burying myself into its placating aroma. Fucking hell. I hate them, I hate them _god damn it_ I hate _them_. It’s over. I shouldn’t be feeling this rippling cascade around the titanium of a chest’s barricaded borders, weakening and contracting like the loosening life force of the old woman’s fingers around my own. The way her azure gawk reflected off both our dilated pupils, a consoling sense of _it’s finally over_ washing over her mind while I was left scarred at the sight of her vacant shades boring into my chest. Her body, dragged into the street and watched over until a scream pierced the air of _“She’s dead! Oh my god she’s dead! Jackson, call the police!”_

Her name was Animus, an immigrant from Greece.

Animus.

_Alive._

Living and breathing.

Not _fucking_ _dead._

_…_

_L e f t   t o    r   o    t  . .  ._

_…_

_…_

…

…

…

...

..

.


	2. The Ways of a Seductress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is coming off with a fairly angsty vibe.  
> A-whoops

.

..

…

…

…

We won nationals.

No –more than that. We won the world's _attention_.

We are the Barden Bellas, and _I_ was there leading captain. I was the reason for our success, our national tours all over the globes waxing hands, reaching out towards us and chanting our names over and over and _over_.

Huh. Wouldn't mom and dad be so proud?

Supposedly not on another hand since I still found myself dirt poor towards the end of freshmen year. You'd think living among the successful life of an acapella group would pay good money. Well I'll tell you now –they don't. Purely put, our tours and sponsorships covered the costs of our hotel stays, plane tickets, food consumption, stage props, and costume designs. That's about it. Maybe here and there we get donations (those immediately split between the group), but besides that –I'm relying on financial care for school tuition and wearing the same pairs of clothes every week.

It was the graduation of freshmen year when the dreaded topic was brought up by none other than…you guessed –Chloe. _Fucking_. Beale.

"Hey Beca?"

It was the aftermath of freshman party. I had face planted onto my bed, finding satisfaction in the humid darkness of my blankets as the thoughts of soon-to-be stress for registering to next year's schooling began. She, obviously not taking the hint that I wished to be alone, had slid her way into the room and began wandering around.

"Wha'dya want…"

I didn't necessarily care since, well, this had become a fairly regular routine between the two of us. She'd eventually just get bored of going through the handwritten music notes and lyrics to my many _many_ journals (in which she claims is a sign to the next DJ Mozart –?), poking me on the head before leaving with a dramatically crafted whine of disappointment.

But, that's where my presumption went wrong.

Never. Ever. Even attempt at assuming the actions of Chloe Beale. Results of this can lead to situations as such:

"Is this _all_ the clothes you have?"

"SONov'A-"

I was sprung up and slamming the closet door shut within the time frame three seconds flat.

"I –Beca!" she looked at me expectedly, crossing her arms over her chest, as if it was _her_ who should be infuriated at this very moment. "It was just a question! No need to get all aggressive over it…"

I think I kind of just continuously sputtered for a good thirty seconds, stuck between wanting to slap her pretty little face straight off her head and simply just losing my shit there and then. "Dude," was what I finally managed to spit out after a long period of restricted breathing. "Learn. Your personal boundaries!"

"Or…" she countered quickly. " _You_ should learn to expand yours!"

"Oh fuck off dude! I can do as I please."

"I didn't say you couldn't Beca," she shifted her glare back to the closed closet door. "I'm just saying that maybe you should …start…letting people in. Like, personally-ish. Dude."

 _Damn it._ She was doing the thing again. That –thing. The thing, meaning, the generating of her dangerously irresistible…puppy eyes (oh the horror!) Stretching them (totally on purpose by the way) and allowing the smallest of a sad smile to tug at her lips.

"Chloe. Chloe stop. I've known you long enough to figure out what you're trying to do."

She only angled her head to the side, catching the escaping rays of the setting sun and positioning it perfectly with her pouting façade. I instantly looked away, refusing to be pulled into that pitiful gaze, knowing fully as to where this conversation would lead to if I even as so much glanced back to her alluring stare.

" _Becs_?"

"Nope!" I continued staring up at the white ceiling, taking extra measures as to squeeze shut my eyes. You never know what the girl has planned up her filthy sleeves. "Medusa ain't got nothin' on me Chlo."

There was silence, and for a split-second the unknown feeling of triumph came over me. _Could it be?_ Had I at last won my first battle against the dreaded seductress?

There was a wisp, just a strand. Small and hardly noticeable, tickling the tip of my nose and bringing out a very unladylike snort. Was there a breeze in here or is it just my imagin _atiOHFORFUCKSSA-_

_"Beca~"_

_Shouldn't have opened my eyes ofmygOD should not have opened my eyes._

Taller than me, strike one. Way up in my face, like, an approximated two inches away from my nose way-up-in-my-face –strike two. Entirely transfixing on her smugly hidden smirk, an innocent look that had looked to be suspiciously crafted beforehand just for me. Me, and my insistent stubborn attitude towards any form of personalized talk since it always lead to a conversation of lies and improv. Lunch, dinner, and breakfast hang outs all declined under the excuse of "homework" when in all honesty –I just didn't have enough money to be feeding myself so leniently at her expensively described restaurants.

Without a doubt. I knew what she was trying to do. And there was no way in hell I'd be give into it so easily.

"Listen. ChloeEEE-"

Improper ending use of vocal chords and sudden abrupt stop of the usage all together? Yes. Because suddenly, her sense of all respect to "Beca's space" seemed to disappear as her arms were whipped up, snagging my wrists and pushing me up against the wall. Still leaning over me, towering in a way that made me appear _oh so_ small and fragile, anxious at the way her fingers tightened at the feeling of my struggling. A skinny, weakly malnourished body pressed up against a healthy, athletically toned figure. Breathes mingling for a moment before I dropped my head downwards and squeezed further into the wall, maybe even fantasizing through a prayer that I would just squeeze right through because for _fuCKs sAKE_ I just _knEW_ she was doing this on purpose.

"Dude." Not good, it sounded as though my voice grew three octaves higher. "Get the fuck off me."

"Come with me shopping?" I shivered. Visibly. The ways of this witch were just plain evil. I was still looking down, doing my best to definitely not stare at the way her body was pressed closely –way way _way_ to closely to mine. In a sensual manner of abruptness, my skin was on _fire_. Flesh slowly beginning to sear at realization of – _wow. This is really hot_. At every shuffle of her movements, the searing was turned into a sudden scorching flame as it dribbled its greedy flickering tongue over my gradually melting knees, her face was leaning closer, lips barely touching my forehead as a barely exhaled of a whisper came to say with the utmost of purity to be laid out.

" _Please?~_ "

Slow and torturous.

And I literally felt the outline of her lips brush against my skin. A mixture of pure horror concocted, delineated with the forbiddingly stained thoughts of fondness and affection. Seeing as, well, why haven't I actually _tried_ to push her away yet? (Besides not having the strength in the first place…this girl's surprisingly pretty beefy.)

"C'mon _Becs_ ," opting to continue from my inability to produce any forms of a coherent sentence, let alone word. "It'll only be for a couple hours."

It was thus when, throughout this entire conversation, I finally made my greatest mistake. It was just a glance. Curiosity, perchance, being the cause. It was there the beat stopped, _1 -2 -3_ seconds before it was reverberated to life, dropping with the bass and followed by an eccentric buzz that came to fill the seemingly vibrating room itself. Uncontrollable, rolling and twisting with the forged notes of the whirling tune reflected off a sapphire tinted gaze, ceasing and bursting and stuttering with every flutter of her lids. Fluidly encasing and bathing me with this steady –timid, yet alien riff. Hummed, cradled and played through the very fingers captivating my departure, corroborating the assurance of a smoothly strummed tempo. And when her head was cocked slightly to the side, and a ghostly flicker of eyes was directed down towards my lips, it was here where the mash-up was put to a scratching halt.

Swallowing the gathered saliva in my throat, I was finally able to croak out a meek "Fine", in which she gladly beamed to. Her hands were loosened, coming to slide down my arms and (maybe my imagination) seeming to linger a bit too long before finally breaking away from me.

"Meet at the Chai House this Friday. Usual time," she positively smiled, turning and strolling her way out the door. As if she hadn't just proudly bestowed future medically related heart conditions on me.

"Yeah," still stiff against the wall, I gave her a meaningless wave. "See ya."

Just as the door was about to be closed, her head momentarily popped back in. "Oh! And you should probably get a new phone. I'll still be on the lookout for your old one, but c'mon girl it's been months now! I need my texting buddy!"

Well. That's going to be a problem since I never really had a phone in the first place.

But at the moment, my brain still wasn't really functioning at full capacity. I sort of just waved again, and I guess taking that as an affirmative, she blew a quick kiss before closing the door quietly behind her. Leaving me to stand there, googly eyed and frazzled to the max. Slowly, my knees were bended, sliding my back against the wall until I was sitting with my knees drawn to my chest.

"Holy _shit_."

…

…

…

I didn't have enough money to dorm.

Tuition could be covered with the help of Financial Need and my stand by job, but the cost for dorming couldn't stand to be afforded anymore. It had taken me two years of three full time jobs without the help of Financial Need to pay for freshman year alone. This year, with the assistance of Financial Need and payment from a single year of a partly working job, the cost of sophomore year was hardly reached. Hardly said, as I was forced to use the tips and common curtsey (usually reserved for food) as a second resort. Scholarships, were not seen to be accepted.

So I skipped out on the mall, instead using the time to find a suitable hidey spot for my now (yet again) homeless self.

Sucks, I was sort of looking forward to the mall.

Sucks that I knew I wouldn't have gone anyway.

Sucks –I was just getting used to the feeling of a bed.

:(

…

…

…

"You ditched me."

"I had…homework?"

"…"

"…"

"Summer classes don't start until next month Beca."

"Just getting a, um, head start…"

"…"

"…"

"…your –you –you _ass_!"

I'll be honest here. Did _not_ see that coming. One thing I've come to learn is that Chloe Beale does not cuss. Under any circumstances.

"Do you know how long I waited for you? How long I sat there, drinking chai after chai after chai –so so _so_ sure that you weren't that kind of person. But here you are. Standing here, giving me this shit-for an excuse."

Wow. She is really mad isn't she? I am _soscrewed…_

"Look, Chlo-"

"Y'know what?" Jesus, she was trembling now, looking at me with such an unusual look of repugnance that just brought chills to my now clammy hands. "Forget it. Just forget it Beca. I'm sure whatever you were really doing was _way_ more important. Right?"

_Ehhh, I did find my form of shelter for the night._

"No! Um, shit Chloe it wasn't…it's not-" I rubbed the back of my neck, struggling to form a reasonable excuse with my sucky improv skills. "…I just really –had to…find something. Like, really badly. And as soon as…possible?"

Judging from her deadpanned expression, I'm guessing that it wasn't enough. But instead of answering, she just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and shoving my shoulder as she brushed by me.

Might've as well just slapped me instead.

…

…

…

Saturday night. No work today, thankfully to my exhausted body. A couple of hours have gone by since the whole "Chloe incident".

And I was just so…guilt-ridden. Eugh.

The way her fists were clenched so tightly to her sides, to the point where her whole body was just quivering with steaming anger. I mean –jesus! Ya see? This. This is why I don't associate myself with people. To avoid feeling this dreadfully awful, not to mention bothersome form of emotion. _Stupid stupid…_

I sighed lightly into the night air. "Stupid."

So this is why I found myself leaving the broken down shed (or more specifically, my new household), journeying through the couple yards of brambly forestry until finally popping out onto the side of the road. It was here I began my two hours and forty five minutes' walk to none other than the only Barden University, a straight stroll through the form of a sidewalk with the rape whistle clutched securingly in my baggy sweats. Goosebumps were already forming on the exposed skin from my tank top since my three pairs of sweaters were at the moment being hung and dried.

Who knew summer winters could be this chilly?

It was around two AM when I finally arrived at the designated dorm. Drumming my knuckles on my knees before I took in a deep breath, rapping them lightly on her door.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

The door was swung open, and the mix was awakened.

"Beca?"

"Oh. Heeey…Aubrey." _God daMN. Why hasn't she moved out yet?!_

"What the hell are you doing here?" Clearly she had been sleeping, evident bags and tussled blond hair being a clear sign. Absolutely terrifying if I'm being honest with myself here.

"Jus'…jus' looking for Chloe. Y'know, the usual…"

"At two o clock in the _morning_? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you Mitchell? And why does it look like you've been sleeping in hay?"

_Because I have been fucker._

"Uh, hello? New captain of the Bella's here Aubrey. I got a sudden sense of inspiration and decided to work it out with my co-captain."

"Well you sense of inspiration sucks Beca!"

I raised my hands in defense. "Ya ya I get it. No need to get all bitchy about it Bree. Now is Chloe here or what?"

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, not really driving the same effect on me as it normally would have since she wasn't exactly the first person to do that to me today. "Saturday night _Captain_. It's rare for Chloe to make it back to the room sober at this early in the night."

 _Of fucking course._ "Thanks Bree." I turned to leave, pausing only to give a light wave. "And sorry for waking you from your beauty sleep and whatever."

She just grunted something incomprehensible, moving to shut the door before coming to a halt. "Wait, seriously Mitchell. What's with the hay? It's like, all over you."

"I tripped into a haystack on my way here."

And the conversation was officially ended.

…

…

…

"Oi! There you are sweetums! C'mere and help me finish this beer!"

_I've made a mistake._

I took a guess, and (lucky me) it happened to be a pretty good guess. Who knew Chloe was suck a fan of the bar I worked at right? From the things I've heard, the girl would've probably preferred the "wilder" bar down the block. In comparison, the bar room could've been considered dead quiet; silent whispers and mumbles being the only thing heard.

"Hey Chlo," I sat down in the stool adjacent from her. Cautious as always. Drunk Chloe is definitely not a sexually safe Chloe. "Pretty drunk there huh?"

"Whaaaa? No way Beca-poo! No waaayyy."

I cringed inwardly. This was new. "Well," I carefully hinged away the bottle from her swaying hand. "Why don't we bust this popsicle stand and go to your place? Much roomier right?"

"Nuh-uh!" Her hand went to snatch at bottle, easily intercepted by yours truly. "Give id' back Bec! Aubrey'll get mad at me if I go back now!"

"Well then why don't we just go walking or something? Get some fresh air?"

"Mmm –nope!" she grinned, so sure that I was up to something mischievous. Which I really wasn't. Honestly, I was kinda just making sure she didn't get raped or whatever. "You'll jus' ditch me again! Again and again and _again_!"

Obviously, I would have to take this at a different approach.

"Then let's make a deal Beale," I tried, motioning for the bartender (not surprisingly Jesse, who I gave a slight nod of greetings too) to clear away the many empty bottles of beer. Shit this girl was really drunk. "Does a deal sound good to you?"

Despite her drunken brain, her head seemed to perk up, listening perhaps? "Oh Beca honey," she smirked, eyes looking twice the frazzle they were when I had first entered. Definitely listening –definitely in the wrong way. "You didn't have to ask to get in my bed. Cuz gurl –you is _fiiiiiine._ "

I died.

"I would take you on any day babe."

Resurrected. Then died gain.

"Any time, any place, any -"

"Alright! Let's go Beale!" I slid off the stool, well aware of the dangerous flare encompassing my neck to cheeks. Grabbing her wrist, I figured that I'd just drag her out from the bar instead. Way better than crap she had in mind. Fuck these "deals" with a drunk Chloe.

Suspiciously however, she followed easily, giggling about something sex related in which I chose to wisely tune out.

We exited the bars door, pausing only to straighten her dishelmed sweater and zip it closed. "Wrong way Becs," she sniggered, and to my utmost surprise coming to place her hands on both sides of my cheeks, gently cupping them upwards. "You're supposed to go the other way honey."

 _She drunk_ , I repeatedly told myself, completely (not) ignoring everything and about this situation. The smell of alcohol tinting her breath is what really snapped me out of it though. _Filthy drunk. M-hm._

I calmly pried her hands off my face, instead throwing one of her arms over my shoulder (de' ja' vu sort of) to steady her wobbling knees and leading onward. Also completely (not) ignoring the pleasuring relief of warmth from her sweater on my bare skin.

"Take me to your place Becs," she half mumbled half slurred through drooping eyelids about twenty minutes into the difficult walk that consisted of me pretty much dragging her misplaced feet. "I know about you moving out of the dorms. Jus' take me to your apartment plee _errz…_ "

How the hell did she even find out about that? It happened _literally_ three days ago.

"Aubrey'll get worried Chlo. We're almost at your place anyway."

"But Beeccaaaa…"

"Just hush please," I quickly cut her off. "Your breath reeks of alcohol." Also because there's no way I'm taking a hot chick to a run down, smelling of manure and algae barn.

She playfully blew in my face, only aggravating me to hiss something unintelligent and have her giggle in return. I heaved her arm up again since she was now practically leaning her whole weight on me. Quite the work out considering my anorexic-like figure. In fact, about a block to go, I was forced to sit her and myself on a passing by bench in order to catch my breath. Having only recently began to eat exactly two meals a day (previously being the exact amount of three –no snacks unless provided by others) can really take a toll on someone's stamina eh?

Thankfully, after a good hour or so of a total of only three breaks, we were going down the hallway towards her dorm. I tip-toed my way through the corridor, she on the other hand apparently wasn't sober enough to realize that this was the time to stop singing sex songs completely off tuned and shut the fuck up.

"Chloe!" I hissed, now only a couple doors away from her room. "Just shut your damn mouth!"

"You CAn't tell mE what to D-" I slapped a hand onto her mouth, cutting her piercing voice off furthermore. Every step I was taking now was just _eugh_ , because it was without a doubt that I she was now purposefully leaning her entire weight on me. To the point where I could feel the smirk of her lips on my palm as she felt me struggle, my energy from the last break already proving to be hardly enough to make it just _a couple more feet…_

Victory!

I leaned Chloe momentarily on the corridors wall behind me, making sure to brush off any excess hay before taking the fateful step away from Chloe's giggling and reaching to knock for the door. Arm raised –trembling and out of breath if I may add from the overworking, knuckles just a fraction of a millimeter away from the door's wooden frame, thoughts of Aubrey and her wrath and the way her blood red eyes will force me to debt of adding extra cardio to the Bella's cardio exercises –already making their way into my head when all of a sudden –

I was yanked violently back, twirled and promptly reaching for my rape whistle on instinct as the side of my face connected painfully with the cold wall. Someone was pressed up behind me –female, pressed closely to where I could feel just about _everything_ I most definitely should not be feeling about her. My hands were discarded away from my pocket, instead pinned by a strong grasp to either side of my body, sliding upwards as a breath came closer and closer to my ear. It tickled my ear, tickled my stomach, hell –it had me shuddering from top to bottom. Then a certain smell became apparent, the smell of – _whiskey?_

Seriously, I should've guessed this sooner. _I swear to god_ this damn woman will end up with no arms tomorrow if she doesn't get the fuck off me.

"Beale!" I whispered to the best of my ability, ending up with a voice just about representing my whole body at that point. Quaking and cracking, loud and hissing at the same time. "I _will_ _fucking_ tear your god damn arms off you _fucking rapi_ -"

The ability to talk, let alone breath was completely cut off when her lips – _god damn_ her _lips_ brushed over my neck, bringing a flighty clench of teeth to my lips. At this point, I was struggling fruitlessly to escape her grasp, pressing back into her entrapping body and yelling something disorientedly processed by my slowly melting brain. And before I became vaguely aware of a painfully pleasurable sucking pressure just below my ear, I was abruptly, and not done gently at all, flipped around. Like a doll, not strong enough physically and mentally to snap out of this crazy haze and just knee her in the gut.

Because suddenly we were face to face – chest to chest –flush to flush –and being pulled into a bruising crash of lips. And her tongue –was in my mouth.

 _Her_ tongue.

My _mouth._

_EUHOOOh FuCK nOo!_

My eyes were widened in a combination of shock and plain revulsion, brows furrowing and stomach clenching into a crushing spasm of _oh god no_. No, the resistance of my hard rock barrier did not just give into the absolute softness of this woman. No, my closest friend was not straight up molesting me at the moment. No I did not return in any way towards this form of assault. No I would not burn or brand this memory this moment into my memory. No, I was not ignoring the fact that I was taking advantage of a drunken lady. No I was not aware that Chloe has a boyfriend. And no –there was _no_ enjoyment to this situation. At all. Natta. Nay. Neeigh.

But.

Sheesh.

Chloe Beale was warm.

And –there were stars everywhere, silver and black mingling and dancing with a dizzying sensation.

And now I couldn't really –think, and if I tried, all I got was this weird warm _warm warmth_. I was cold, and Chloe was warm. Survival required warmth. And warmth meant survival. Slinking eyes were closed, and I sinfully sank into the soft kiss with sigh through my nose. Every movement of her lips, up and down, pausing and pulling back only at the slightest to let in and out a heated harsh gasp of air through her mouth, then coming back just as fast to continue her assault. Her hands were tangled in my hair, rubbing and scratching into skin with every breathless moan let out. She was warm, or maybe I was just hot. Flushing a deeply rooted shade of red since the beginning of this –interac _tion_? Wh _y_ _was –we were –where to how wha…_

Then her hands let my wrists drop, and my arms were left to slump numbly at my side. Think. Think. Think. _Think. Think. Think. Thank. Lank. Sank. Fake. Blank._

_This is nice._

_Not too bad._

_Really warm._

I felt something snag at the hem of my shirt, a distinct " _nnmf_ " was muffled through my lips, coming out as a throaty whimper which she seemed to only eat up in her drunkard state. The coherent thought's were returning from their slumber though, a _something isn't righ_ –the warmth spread, and a powerful flinch of my muscle was released as a pair of damp hands slid under my shirt, rubbing upwards at my projecting ribs and side. It was as if the tips of her fingers had been heated to a boiling rate over a bewitched fire, every skim of her skin on mine leaving a blistering line of heat, crackling and sizzling and burning and smoldering at every growing moment of realization to _oh my fucking god she's feeling me up._

This –my eyes snapped open. This, the gears and machinery to my brain were stitched onto surplus overload. This, my arms were instant to obey to the rationality of my mind, raised and summoning all energy into the one push that finally sent her flying and slamming into her door. In which –of course…

…she giggled to. Three heavy heart beats passed, and she soon entered the peaceful world of slumber with a loud snore, while I was left to the world of callous reality.

The door was swung open, and the only thing I could so was raise a hand to my swollen lips, swiping at cold spit that definitely. Did not. Belong to me.

M-m. No.

"Chloe? Beca? Wha-"

I didn't see her, and before she could see me I was already gone. Racing down the hallway and making a sharp turn into the bathroom, quickly racing to the nearest toilet before everything was hurled out from the day. Hunched over and gasping for breath, beyond the belief of actuality. This wasn't right. This did not just happen. Drunk. Not sober. She wasn't thinking. _She isn't gay._ And she most definitely does not think of me like that. She'll wake up with a hangover in which Aubrey will without a doubt help her with as she proceeds to not remember a single thing about the night before. Meaningless.

I pushed down on the lever, and instead of making my way out from the bathroom decided to pull the top of the toilet down. Plopping heavily down onto it, I could only bury my head into my hand scratching hard at my cheeks before leaning back and staring up at the florescent lights.

Didn't think I'd pass out, but –I passed out.

Awakened by the sound of giggling freshmen entering the bathroom. It was then I snapped awake with a grunt, unlocking the stall and stumbling out, wincing only slightly at the soreness and more at the sight of my complexion. And judging from the wandering eyes of the freshmen, yeah. I looked pretty bad.

"Get lost," was the only thing I could mumble before bending my head down to wash the leftover throw up from the day before. Wiping and scrubbing at my greasy face, using the commercial soap given to the side. Then, as the thoughts of the night before began to rise, I quickly pumped more soap into my hands, brushing at my lips and teeth fervently with a finger. "Gross, gross…"

"Oh hey Becs!"

I nearly sucked in a lung full of soap and water at the sound of her cheery voice vocalizing off the bathrooms tiled walls. Choking only momentarily at the liquid, I swiftly spit and rinsed before grabbing paper towel at the side and thoroughly wiping my face. It was after that when I finally turned to get a good look at the redhead.

…in which there was an awkward pause of _does she remember?_ Apparently not because she came up to playfully "boop" at my nose (giving me a mini heart attack at the same time), and chuckling out a "Good morning sleepy head!"

"…mornin'."

The gaggle of freshmen walked out, dreadfully leaving me alone with this overbearing woman.

"Sooo like, how're you feeling?" I slowly and painfully awkwardly came to say while rubbing at the back of my neck. A clear sign of nervousness that Chloe immediately picked up.

"Oh you mean the hangover? Psh," she waved at me. "It faded away at around noon." _Noon?!_ "I'm feeling much better now. My question however," she was looking me up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance of sweats and a loose tank top. "Are _you_ feeling alright? It's not really like you to skip out on Bella rehearsals. Captain _._ "

Concern laced her observing gaze, and I immediately averted her roaming eyes. "Yeah. Yeah –um, sorry about that. What time is it again?"

"Two o' clock," she immediately responded, a frown looking to be developed through my peripheral vision. "You sure your alright Beca? You're looking pretty pale."

Before I could respond, let alone take into account of what she was doing, she was stepping into my space again. And _no no_ _no no no_ , I did _not_ want her anywhere near me. Get _the fuck away from me._ I did not want her _fake_ hands on me. Don't want her sweet breath mixing with her _fake_ lips, feeling and bringing these unnecessary sentiments to mind. Don't want _anything_ to do with her. Simple and panicked. Frazzled and scared. Exhausted, weary, fatigued, starving, cold, sweaty, dizzy, clammy, hot, cold, boiling, chilled, shattered, nauseated…D _on't -_

"-fuc _king_ _ **touch**_ _me!_ "

Her hand was retracted at once, wide eyes staring as she stepped back instinctively. "Beca… _wha_ -"

Drunk. She was fake and drunk.

" _Shit._ "

Instead of looking at her, I had a hand to my temple, the other coming to grasp sickly at the side of a sink. My legs were wobbling, her voice was faintly being comprehended, and then I was hunching onto the sink with two quavering arms before a black foreboding color was obscuring my vision. Nauseated, a groan hardly flying through my lips as everything came crashing with the final wave of exhaustion.

Her arms came under mine, pressing me to herself to keep from face planting to the ground.

Warmth spread.

Warm.

_Fake._

_Warm'n fake._

_Heh._

...

..

.


	3. Bruises and Cuts

.

..

…

 “…elling you she just collapsed!”

Eh?

“Aubrey…god I don’t know what to do. I think she–where was she? I found her in the bathroom looking really high. You don’t think she does drugs do you?”

Ehhh?

“Yeah. Yeah, she had just finished washing her mouth with soap or something. I think she may have passed out in the bathroom before. Plus…” there was a pause, and it took everything in my weak energy to resist flinching when a flicker of a finger brushed the hair away from my ear. “Yup. She’s got a hickey. Didn’t think Beca was that kinda gir –wha?”

Ehhhhh?

“What do you mean _I_ gave it to her? I’ll have you know I pride on being in control of myself when I’m drunk! But…now that you mention it…”

Ehhhhhhhh?

“…I do distinctly remember making out with someone last night. Think it was Beca? Oh. Oh? M-hm. Well I personally don’t really mind to be honest. I’m more worried for her. Poor thing right? I must’ve been terrifyingly sexy for her innocent mind.”

Ehhhhhhhhhh???

“She walked me home? Mmmm. Yup, no doubt it was her then. Shit. Must’ve looked ho –hm? Oh yeah. She’s still out. Suggestions?”

“Eh.”

 “Oh MY gosh she’s awake! Aubrey she’s awake! What do I do!?”

I peeked open my eyes, not even bothering at an attempt to sit myself up. Already I could feel the nausea resurfacing, cold sweat wasting no time to washing over my form as the orange colors of the room brought a swirling motion to my head. Instead, I closed my eyes again, taking in a deep breath and releasing it through my mouth.

“…what? N-…no. I think she passed out again. Lemme’ check.” Silence, then a poke at my forehead. _For god’s sake Chloe…_

My response was another grunt, much to my amusement causing her to jump back in panic.

“I think she kind of just dozed off Bree,” she whispered. Thank god to my killer migraine. “Should I wake her up?”

_Noooo…_

“No?”

_Yeeesss…_

“Alright. I’ll wait then. Yeah. M-hmm. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

 _FFFNooooOOOOOO…_  

“Yes. Okay.”

_…OOONONOOONOOOOOOO…_

“Yes ma’am. To her door step.”

 _…OOFFFUUUCCCFAKFAKFKAFAKFAKAFA…_  

“Gotch’ya. All right, thanks Bree! Talk later!”

…

Here here. Let it be known to the public that I am henceforth –fucked.

So, to make a plan. A plan –that is, concocted thorough the endless alarms and bells as the co-captain of mine came to plop herself right on down next to me. Then, having the audacity to _fucking lie down_ , assumingly take her phone out, and stream on by while making sure to wrap an arm just under my neck and scootch me in way too close towards her side. Way too cuddly and way too snuggly this one is for just figuring out that she straight up molested me last night.

But here comes the serious question. Now what?

No way she’d let me walk anywhere by myself, and no way she’d oblige to leaving me alone for a minute. Once I supposedly “wake up”, I’m pretty sure I’ll be subjected to the guaranteed discovery of my –ehm, _condition_ if you will. Take it from my perspective, would you really want someone pitying over you and your life situations? Nay child. And knowing Chloe, I mean like, _really_ knowing Chloe, she’ll do just about anything to make sure my life is happy and rainbows.

Absolutely unacceptable. And absolutely redundant.

 So. I settled on waiting her out.

Lying there and struggling to control the hitches in my breathing every time she’d pause from her phone to unnecessarily shimmy away bangs across my head. Other times would be an unexpected brush of her hand across my forehead, as if checking for a fever of some type. Sweet actions, but absolutely nerve wrecking on my mental strain and (hoping) not too obvious tension. And despite the whole fact that I could feel just about every inhale and exhale off her body since I was literally being cuddled against my will to her side, I did end up dozing off for real. Hard not to if I’m to be honest. That Chloe is quite the snuggler.

But she’ll have to leave eventually right?

I ended up dozing off a total of two times. Each moment after awakening I was nearly sent in cardiac arrest at the feeling of another body next to mine. Luckily though, it seemed as though my brain was in control during those moments because I didn’t make partake any sign of consciousness, a small stifle of the breath or flinch of a muscle being the only excuse.

Hours must have gone by, and the very thought of, _Jesus. When does this girl go to the bathroom_ , hardly left my mind as I peeked open a slither of my eye, still finding her in the almost same exact position as the last doze off. I almost figured defeat after the realization of this, probably just sticking to the plan of run-and-totally-lose-her-with-my-sucky-running-stamina until finally –ugh _finally_ there was a rustle to my side, signifying that _yes!_ –finally she was getting up.

“Be right back Becs,” she whispered, ruffling my hair with one hand, hesitating for a second through the feeling of her movements before a ghost of a kiss was brushed quickly at my cheek. I could feel the burn of the flush storm its way upwards from my chest, clawing its way upwards but – _no._ _Keep it together…_ The weight of the bed was then sprung up, a couple of steps before the sound of a door opening and closing was heard.

At once the covers were pulled off and I was up, swaying only slightly at first before shaking it off. No doubt Chloe was only going to use the restroom. My getaway would have to be swift and rushed.

“Quickly quickly,” I hummed to myself, grabbed a nearby notebook and yanked it open to a blank page, quickly scribbling a note consisting of “Yeah I woke up and didn’t get kidnapped and thanks whatevs”, leaving it open on her desk and rushing to the door. But wait –what if she was coming back already? What if she was in the hallway already?

…

_Tiptoe through the window. By the window…~_

_…_

Fuck. I was going out the window wasn’t I?

The sagacity of my mind was hardly heard because almost a full minute and a half has gone by already. In a few seconds I was crossing the room and rolling up the window, thanking any god out there for giving Chloe a dorm on the first floor while lifting both legs up and out until my butt was the only thing anchoring me to the room. I glanced back into the room, taking in the comfy interior for only a moment’s hesitation before sliding out and landing in some prickly bushes, pausing, and finally closing the window with a sliding “thump”.

Done and done.

Thenceforth, I was off. An escapee, a deserter dashing away from the reality refused to be comprehended and into the twilight atmosphere. **_Dizzy_** , lack of food. Energy dwindling down to a sweating mess of tripping limbs and bloody scrapes. First aid kit that I just didn’t _have_ , didn’t have the time or vigor for. Arms were pumped to the side, urging me on as my knees begged and cried to bring an end to this anguish, buckling and tossing me continuously onto the warm cement’s jagged exterior. Panting, gasping, I was almost sure I’d pass out again –stopping constantly and having to leave the sidewalk to nearly collapse on the dewy grass, instead settling on leaning heavily on a tree for support. Shaking uncontrollably, imagining a fantasy that maybe I should’ve just told Chloe and maybe she could just make everything right. A daydream, blown to the side as my legs were forced into work again, jogging replacing the dizzying run because any further work would no doubt cause me to collapse into a snarled mess. I didn’t want her help, and I especially did _not_ want her pity. Ever.

“…eca…”

The scary thing was that I knew this would happen. Because it’s just the kind of thing she _would_ do, always going way above and beyond to look out for others. Like the five hour quest to find Stacie’s special hair tie, or a mortifying gift of multiple lacey bra’s to me after discovering my lacking amount of the particular undergarment. This is why I had ran to such a desperate extent, loathing the precious time wasted at taking the much needed breaks to my weak stamina.

“…eca!”

She knew I didn’t take the taxi, and she knew the Barden University buses weren’t in function during the summer. She knew I didn’t have a car of my own, and she could tell through my worn out sneakers and flip flops that I walked more than I asked for a ride. She would’ve asked the people around if they had seen a girl in tank top and flip flops, and they would’ve pointed in the direction of where I ran. Like said before, a straight path by sidewalk there and back.

She knows.

“Beca!”

Dread had seeped into my light jog, feet picking up a new sense of adrenaline at the sound of her voice growing stronger in sound. But despite the new sense of urgency at the situation, the adrenaline was weak, already used up previously. I had thrown up all food the night before, and have eaten not a single bite throughout this entire day. Completely worn out, now I was worried. Because the rumbling of a car was coming closer, to the point where the headlights were just about to rise over the hill. These combined, the anxiousness rifling at the pit of my stomach, drained adrenaline, dreaded helplessness –brought on a new form of dizzy to a dire extent.

Cliché, all those stereotypes proven true, the ground was swimming, I was swimming in it, languidly sinking and drowning in the grey and florescent lit folds of the sidewalk.

Last came the fateful stumble, a trip that stubbed at my toe and pushed me to the floor face first. Energy was done, gone and fizzled out, shaking arms attempting at pushing my upper half with futile attempts. Hot and cold at the same time, sweat turning into a chill that brought a cough, soon morphing into a retching motion as –there was nothing to gag out.

“Beca!”

The sound of the car was approaching, her voice was just in the distance and I was still on the ground. Joints were aching into numbness, the car the motor the engine was nearing. A final crucial decision, desperation fueling the action –I pushed off to my right, straight down the steep hill to the sidewalks side. Rolling down I went, faster and faster and faster with the smell of grass engulfing my entire senses as the feeling of twigs and rocks plowed into my side –chest –face. The stop came abruptly, bringing a pained cry from a desiccated throat as my back connected hard with the trunk of a tree. I’m sure it hurt, in fact it _did_ hurt. To the scale where I just couldn’t feel anything anymore. Completely numb, lying on my side and watching as a familiar car pass by slowly, catching only a glimpse of red hair before the car was gone.

“Heh.”   _Success._ To an extreme degree.

Autopilot took over and my muscles began to relax, eyes stopped fighting, head came to rest in the leafy flooring. I was tired, and I wanted to rest. Recharge. Everything about _me_ , was exhausted. So the choice, rationality of passing out in the open doing its best to compete with just complete and utter fatigue, wasn’t really something to be competed over.

I did pass out. Not given an alternative towards the end.

Really hoping I didn’t break my spine or something.

…

…

…

I’m ugly.

Said bluntly because, in a matter of speaking the truth –it _is_ true.

I am. Ugly.

Simple and straightforward.

Hygiene on one hand has never really appealed to me in an alarming way. Smells sort of just mingled together after a while of walking and sweating, the comprehension of odors not really being implied unless it was stronger and fresher.

So when I arrived at Barden University, I was deemed the ugly one. At least by myself, yet no doubt mentally done by all the other attending freshmen. Scissor cut, slickly greasy, and thinly malnourished hair, tied back by a wearing out ponytail. Baggy jeans that hadn’t been washed since the week before –and by wash I meant dumped into a bin with water and shook halfheartedly around for a good minute –a tank top flagged by a gray sweater that had once been white. No deodorant, no perfume, no make-up, no nail polish, no _nothing_. Literally. The only thing sitting inside my dorm room was a bag (same one since the beginning) filled with one other sweater, two pairs of baggy pants, and three other tank tops. Accompanied by one brush, toilet paper, a chocolate bar, wallet, a pocket knife, hardly used toothbrush, some chips, a small bar of brown soap, and other insignificant items I can’t really remember. A couple of textbooks here and there, two pencils found while walking to the dorm, one or two notebooks, and a folder.

So honestly, _me_. Literally being held together by sweat and dirt alone, _me!_ Why would this angel from heaven call me over to join some fancy rich white girl singing group? Her pal had gotten the right vibe, looking me over and mumbling something about “ear monstrosities” before peering back at me and flashing a fake smile.

“Give it a try?” she inquired with a tilt of her head, smiling as though I was the key to their success.

“Sorry, but I don’t even sing.”

Disappointment no doubt, her friend on the other hand happened to just smile even brighter, triumph on her part.

I’m ugly. I can’t sing. Something learned, something believed, something to see out of the obvious. Two things that just connected, fit and snuggled right together.

So late at night, bathroom all to myself. Who could ask for more? I was happy, showering in public baths –no curtains and no privacy what so ever –was finally put on break. No matter how late or early you went to those baths, there would always be people there. Creeps to lower class. All staring at an ungroomed, unnaturally skinny girl. So with this new sense of seclusion, a curtain, god damn a _curtain_ , of course I’d be humming a tune to myself. Not really something I could essentially control in a way.

Besides. Who the hell would be taking a shower in these wee hours of the night?

…

“How high does your belt go?”

“Oh my god!”

“And gosh, you’re so skinny! Definitely did not peg you for the anorexic type. Beca was it?” She didn’t even try hiding her roaming eyes, looking me up and down before coming to settle at my eyes. Pushy persona, and not to mention physically naked. Fucking stark naked. I could feel the embarrassment of “anorexic” burning over my face, backing me up into a corner as she advanced with this radiating confidence of _“keep staring twerp”_. Twerp, without a doubt, being pretty much everyone to ever come into existence –or more specifically just me. Me, and her, in the shower stall, naked. Alone. _Um._

“I am nude.” An obvious fact she had apparently skipped over. “Please get out of my stall.”

“You were singing Titanium right?” Totally ignoring everything I just said. But on the other hand, _have I just met a fellow David Guetta fan?_

“You know David Guetta?”

“Have I been living under rock? Yeah! That song is my jam.” Her head bobbed back and forth before a mischievous glint was smiled through smirking lips. “My lady jam.”

And the discomfiture of the entire situation was multiplied by fifty million _quadrillion bazillion-_

“That’s nice,” I nodded quickly, resuming my stare at the wall.

“It is. The song really builds,” and this chick has the nerve to fucking wink at me. I could hardly spit out a “gross” remark because damn this lady just doesn’t know when to stop talking. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Dude _no._ ” _Oh my god this is not happening._ “Get out!”

“Not for that reason! I’m not leaving until you sing so…” Hands on her hips, she stood proud, waiting for my voice to be projected and heard. _Stubborn –jesus what’s her name again?_

So I sang. And then she sang. And _damn_ , boy did we sound fine. And boy did _she_ look fine. And –and…and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. Boyfriend. Or fuckboy. Boy. Guy. Man. I never really did ask to differentiate between the two. Who cares right? I went to the damn audition anyway.

Later, I adapted back into the basics of hygiene (forced if you will, hanging out with preppy woman can get fairly pressuring). Bought some deo, brushed morning and night, showered regularly while using the provided shampoo and soap bottles, and washed my clothing regularly.

Still didn’t change the main point at hand.

No matter what she says, or the way she looks me over otherwise. Dirty and smudged, filthy and caked with mud around every corner and every thought.

I’m ugly.

Inside and out.

…

…

…

So I didn’t break my spine (yippee).

On the other hand, I could hardly raise myself from the ground upon waking up the following morning. The soreness was overwhelming, discomfort of even sitting up raised a series of irrepressible whimpers.  It _hurt_. Fuck it hurt _a lot_. _I can’t_ –it proved to be futile to even stand up after several attempts of face plants and nauseated gags. So I sat there, bruised back leaning excruciatingly lightly against the trunk of a tree, glad there was a hill to hide me from the higher-up oncoming traffic passing by.

…

_Everything hurts._

…

It was still early in the morning when I was finally able to crawl out from the shrubs, maybe six or seven, stumbling up and out into the open. Then –I walked. Walked, very _very_ slowly. A falter in every step, a sway throughout the pace. A simple goal was inserted into a fuzzy functioning mind –get to the shed, eat the leftover provisions, clean up, go get more provisions. Over and over this was repeated, urging sore appendages and stinging abrasions. Perhaps observed to be an irresponsible high school kid too caught up at a party by the few passerby’s, sending only a nod of greeting my way before continuing their morning stroll. Can’t say I necessarily cared, can’t say I really noticed at the time either. No doubt my appearance appeared awful, that said, appeared more awful than normally.

By the time I had arrived at the small barn, there was a limp in every stride and waver in my visions watch. I collapsed onto my set out sweater bed, reaching over and practically tearing open my backpack to get to the awaiting chips food inside. Barbeque chips and water were feasted on, switching to a left over candy bar and enjoying the sudden rush of sugar flowing through my bloodstream.

Yes, awake and alive.

…

…

…

“Hey! Hey Beca!”

I walked a little faster.

“Beca –Beca wait!”

Pace quickened more.

“For _fucks_ sake Beca stop!”

 _Ugh._ I did stop, clenching my fist tightly before irritatingly turning to face her.

“What.”

She scoffed, smiling in disbelief. “What do you mean _what_? Why didn’t you wait for me last night?”

“I had to get somewhere fast. What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? Beca I was worried _sick_ about you! Why are you so stupid about this?”

“Stupid about _what_ Beale? My own fucking business? I don’t need you to worry about me. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

That was it. Forgive my rudeness and all but to be put plainly out there –I’m tired and in a great deal of pain. Duh I’m going to be slightly pissed off. Literally, every step brought a stroke of pain across my back, the clothing’s continues brush being the cause.

“You –just –that’s it!” Before I knew what was happening, she had grabbed by the wrist and yanked me back to her. Then I was stumbling after her as she dragged me along to _god knows where._

“Hey! Fucking –Chloe let go of my wrist!”

“Shut up Beca. If you’re not going to tell me where you got all those fucking scratches on you’re stupid _stupid_ face, then _I’m_ just going to have to take care of them myself.”

“For Christ’s sake Chloe!” I tried tugging at my wrist, aghast to find a grip strong enough to resemble as a steel lock. “I don’t need your help Chloe!”

“I don’t care Beca!”

“Well you should! Because it’s _my_ body! Now let go of my god da-” She stopped abruptly, causing me to nearly slam into her back. Then her head whipped around, and _jesus christ_ it would be impossible to even try and describe the amount of emotions being reflected off her expression.

“Beca, you need to shut. The fuck up.”

I almost opened my mouth to argue with her; in fact I actually _did_ open my mouth to say something, but ended up closing it shut quickly from honest fear that she would slap me if I actually did say something.

“Now,” her fingers loosened from my wrist, retracting back and instead being crossed at her chest. “We are going to my room where I will not only treat your visible cuts, but also _search_ your skinny-ass body for more. You on the other hand will sit quietly, and make a single peep throughout this entire process. Have I made myself clear?”

“What the hell!? Of course no-”

“Good,” she rudely interrupted, turning back without a word and making her way into the direction of her dorm room. It was here I had a choice. Leave and suffer though an agonizing amount of guilt and infection –or go and be absolutely, mortifyingly, revoltingly, disgustingly –humiliated for life.

_…uggh._

I never really did stand a chance against her.

…

…

…

“Ow.”

“Shut up.”

“I only sai-”

“I said shut up.”

I huffed out a frustrated breath, clamping my mouth shut and glaring at her. Her and her pretty, perfect, really close-

“Hold still.”

“I _am_ holding sti-”

“Shut up.”

“What _did I even_ –”

“Shut. Up.”

Apparently the only phrase she actually can say. We’ve been at this for a total of about ten minutes so far. True to her word, first my face was washed, then smeared with some weird antibiotics. After that is when the dreaded order came, to take off my sweater. Of course I didn’t oblige at first –or pretty much at. It later ended with me being face-first pinned down to her mattress, nearly straddling me as she stripped off my sweater and threw it to the side of her bed. Through my unnatural silence came a gasp, a stifled breath as her hand slowly lifted my tank top, and the abrasion was revealed. A dark, swelling, purple and red bruise larger than the size of her hand.

“How did you –?”

“Car.”

I could almost feel her anger just shatter then and there, replaced with an almost surprisingly quick change of concern and absolute distress.

“You got hit by a _car?!”_  she shrieked, still pretty much sitting on top of me. “Oh my god Beca!”

“M-hmm, yes yes I know mother. Always look right to left when crossing the road next time.”

“Beca this is serious! You could be seriously injured right now!”

“Well,” I sighed, leaning my head back in the folds of her Chloe-smelling comforters. “You best get on it doctor.”

“I can’t believe…” there was a loud exhale of air, and then she was climbing off me, going to retrieve a second first aid kit apparently. I watched her, head tilted and laying one side as she searched around Aubrey’s belongings. Then she was coming back, hips swaying, eyebrows furrowed, eyes never leaving the horror on my back.

She dragged a chair over from Aubrey’s desk, scooting it close to the bed before sitting in it. I peered up at her, and she looked down at me. A silent conversation was made, and I shifted slightly, still maintain eye contact when my fingers came to grasp at the sheets. I know I must’ve looked really pathetic, small and weak. The way she was watching me, staring into me, as if she could see everything and everyone and everyplace and every time it hurt. Hurt me. Pained me. Made me _feel_ something.

Then her hands were on my skin, and I immediately jerked at the touch, visions and senses of our previous encounter outside her dorm room rushing back into memory. But her hands were soothing, and her fingers were dancing –gliding and massaging around the affected area. I closed my eyes at hearing the sound of crinkles, knowing fully what was next to come. And it fuck fuck facking fac fuck it _came_ , sizzling alcohol poured and for a moment I was concerned for her bed –but just as it was thought, it was gone, washed away with the sudden flow of intensifying heat. Burning hotter than any stove, any ember touched. My face went red, and I could feel the scream making its way out before it even came out, a cry of exhaustion and fury intermingling with a pounding at the core of the wounds surface. It was rubbed, cleaned, patted –and I was sweating and whimpering and letting the tears flow with clenched teeth, fists and knuckles a ghostly shade of white from excess pressure and force.

 “Beca.” She said it softly, gently even. Frustrated yet worried. Angry but relieved. “Why can’t you  take care of yourself more often?”

I could’ve answered if I really wanted to. But I didn’t, I just kept my eyes closed and sunk back into comforters that didn’t belong to me. Fantasizing with an imagination running too wild because _Chloe Beale_ isn’t gay. Sure she kissed me in the hallway, but that was drunk related. Besides, I am –for lack of a better term –fucking poor. There is no future with me until have quality shelter above my head and top-notch food to be consuming.

Daydreaming, as she continued to resurrect. Imagining, as her touch lighted a path across my skin. _For god’s sake…_

I, Beca Mitchell, have a god damn crush on Chloe Beale.

“Get some rest Becs,” breathed into my ear before a kiss was lightly pressed onto the silks of my hair. Felt and perceived and lifting, yet breaking the spirit of an already dead being.  I wasn’t even tired to be honest, just –worn out.

But Chloe has this thing. The thing where she always gets what she wants. Even if it’s dealing with one of the most stubborn and currently in loads amount of pain –people to live.

So I ended up sleeping anyway.

…

..

.


End file.
